Birds and Bees
by write-love-latte
Summary: Draco Malfoy needs first-hand experience with the birds and the bees. He hatches an elaborate plot in order to impress his fiance-a plot that involves young, innocent Ginny Weasley. Two-shot? Smut, eventually. R&R.


Birds & Bees

**Summary: Draco Malfoy needs first-hand experience with the birds and the bees. Like all awkward teenage boys who are unable to come to terms with their own feelings, he hatches an elaborate plot in order to impress his fiance-a plot that involves young, innocent Ginny Weasley.**

It wasn't that he didn't know the the mechanics of it. He had listened to at least three stiff, awkward lectures from his father about the duty of a Malfoy son, and had overheard quite a few unconcerned comments at various Pureblood functions. These events, of course, had been before he'd developed any kind of genuine interest in the topic, so maybe they didn't count. But by thirteen years of age, he'd actively sought after books and other material on the matter-not that they had been openly available to him, of course. He'd had to settle for clinical descriptions and single-color illustrations, none of which really satisfied his curiosity.

What it came down to in the end was, perhaps, satisfying his curiosity, but he could have remained blissfully unsated for a few years more, had Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy not decided to spring _it_ on him. The much dreaded, but unfortunately expected, _marriage meeting_. It had been just after his fifteenth birthday, during the summer before his fifth year. Under the pretense of a highly exclusive birthday celebration where there was only one other family as guests, the Malfoys and the Desmarais had sealed the future of their bloodlines. His fiance-to-be, Miralda, had been an exotic French Beauxbaton attendee who, though Draco fairly cringed at the memory, had exuded such a sexual aura that he had nearly-very nearly-released himself into his finely tailored robes.

Now, chewing his quill in the Hogwarts library only a week into the school year, Draco assessed the dilemma at hand. In about three months, he would go home for Christmas and, he knew without a doubt, that Miralda Desmarai and her entourage would be there to spend some quality time at the Manor. And Miralda Desmerai would expect certain things of him-certain things he would not be able to provide if only her presence put him on the edge of, well, releasing himself into his finely tailored robes. Certain things he probably would not be able to provide anyway, taking into consideration the amount of experience and knowledge he had in that particular area.

There had to be something he could do.

He glanced around, taking in the candlelit bookshelves and empty desks.

He had already perused all of the books in this library throughout the past two years, eager for some new snippet of information-not that anything particularly good had ever come up. And, obviously, no amount of academic preparation would be able to help him in this field. What he needed was real-life, first-hand experience-he knew about his own body and how it worked well enough, so ideally, he needed a partner with whom he could...explore.

He needed a girl. He bit his quill almost violently. But no, not just any girl-because, of course, there had to be stipulations. She would have to be someone he was not attracted to, because frankly any kind of attraction would take away from his learning-but of course she couldn't be _hideous_ or anything, otherwise that would take away from his learning, as well. He crunched the already abused quill thoughtfully. Ideally, she should be a Pureblood-because Draco would not lower himself to a Mudblood-but at the same time, she shouldn't be someone with whom there were too many consequences attached. Also, it would probably be better if she had less experience than him because that way she wouldn't be able to, well, compare him to others or, even worse, laugh at him.

Draco sputtered as his quill finally gave way, ink spilling out over his lip. Cursing, he dabbed his mouth with the back of his sleeve, then cursed some more when he saw the stain it left behind.

It seemed like he had two near impossible tasks ahead of him: one, to find a girl he could adequately experiment with and, two, to experiment enough so as to prevent himself embarrassment this coming December. He sneered into the air, steeling himself for what was, undoubtedly, going to be a horrific fight.

* * *

By the next week, things were looking a bit brighter for Draco. He sat in the Great Hall, almost completely oblivious to the conversations going on around him and the nudges of humor his friends delivered to his arm. Dinner was already underway, but Draco's plate was still empty; his eyes were, instead, glued to the face of a girl across the room. He had been watching for the past few days now and the more he looked at her, the more perfect she seemed. Not perfect in general, just perfect for what he needed. In other words, she was delightfully neutral in almost every way he could think of _and_ she fit all of his essential criteria; not overly pretty, not overly ugly, a Pureblood of low standing and, quite possibly, the least experienced girl in the whole of Hogwarts.

Now, he just had to devise a way to get his hands on her.

He smirked, realizing that he meant that quite literally.

* * *

It was a few days before Draco could think of anything that would allow him access to the girl he had selected. He had spent much of the time wracking his brain for some clever plan that would make what he wanted to propose not sound completely outrageous-because it sounded outrageous, even to his own ears. It was Blaise that gave him the idea.

The two had been making their way back from the Quidditch tryouts-both having secured spots on the team, of course-when Blaise had brought it up.

"I absolutely cannot wait to get back to the castle," he said amicably, winking in Draco's direction, "I've got a date with my Hufflepuff amour."

Draco did a double-take. "_Hufflepuff_? You're _dating_ a Hufflepuff?"

Blaise snorted with laughter, running one of his tan hands through his wet hair. "You really haven't been listening lately, have you? Of course I'm not dating a Hufflepuff, Draco. I'm just having a good time of her, if you know what I mean."

Realization dawned on him, and then a flash of blatant envy. Draco stifled it promptly, glad that he had been trained to show minimal facial expression. "How in Merlin's name did you even managed to score one of those?" he mused, hoping Blaise would answer anyway, "Aren't they all a bunch of goody-two-shoes in that house?" A cool breeze rustled his hair a bit, and Draco shoved the stray strands back into place. He hoped he did not sound _too_ much like he needed an answer.

"Oh, you know how it is. Tell them you like them, wait for them to blush, and then have your way with them," Blaise shrugged, grinning, "She played coy with me for quite a while, too, before she finally admitted she liked it."

It was those words that told Draco exactly what he needed to do.

* * *

Draco felt a distinct flare of annoyance as he pushed his way through the crowd, looking for a flash of color and hoping he hadn't missed it already. The hallways were always so bleeding busy between classes that it was almost difficult for him to stand his ground and not be carried away by the masses. His eyes narrowed as he spotted his target over the heads of some third years. He inwardly thanked his parents for the considerable height he had been bestowed with, and then he began to make his way toward her.

But damn if it wasn't like wading through molasses. He seemed to be making no progress at all, what with her moving in the opposite direction. But no, he couldn't give up. His pride and the pride of his family depended on him being able to catch her.

Almost shoving a group of first years out of his way, Draco huffed to a stop beside her. He reached into his robe, searching for the envelope he had prepared in advance. Just as his fingers closed around it, he was jostled forward into her, his chin colliding with the top of her head. She made a small noise that mirrored his _oomf_ of pain, and reached her hand back to touch the bruised spot. Moving back slightly, he inhaled, taking in the fruity, pleasant scent of her. It surprised him, the way she smelt, and he would have moved away further if it weren't for a stampede of sixth years crossing the passage. Recognizing the chance, Draco quickly oriented himself, pulling the letter out and tucking it into her satchel.

Spotting the next opening in the throng of students, Draco quickly tore himself away from her, joining them hastily and hoping she hadn't seen him.

* * *

Because he couldn't shake the slight feeling of nervousness that danced in the pit of his stomach, Draco became annoyed. He was in control of this situation, after all, so he had no reason to be nervous. He had written her a carefully crafted love letter-anonymous, so she wouldn't be deterred-and requested her presence in the Room of Requirement at eight o'clock that Friday night. Never mind the fact that he had been in here since before dinner, trying to figure out what he wanted the room to look like. It wasn't that he wanted to impress her-he just needed to not scare her off long enough to have his way with her.

He ran a hand through his hair, a habit he had picked up from Blaise, and glanced around critically. The room was illuminated dimly from all around, but it seemed innocent enough. A fireplace with flames that danced along the carpeted floor, and dark leather sofas. He'd thought that using too many Slytherin colors might intimidate her, but in the end he had draped the entire room in green curtains. At that point it hadn't been about scaring her off-it had been about keeping himself there, and frankly, green was one of the only colors that calmed him down.

"M-Malfoy?" came a soft, startled voice from the doorway.

"Weasley."

She had slipped in before he could notice, but Draco eyed Ginny Weasley as calmly as he could manage. She was still in her school uniform and, though she had shed the black robes,she looked decidedly prim in the grey skirt and button down shirt. Her Gryffindor tie was done up all the way to her neck, and her hair looked like she had bothered to comb it. It fell in soft waves around her reddening face, and Draco noted what looked like gloss on her small mouth.

"Y-you!" she squeeked, turning toward the door as though looking for an escape. Draco quickly ordered the room to lock it. She rattled the door knob for a few moments, as though hoping she could open it through sheer force of will. "L-let me out," she pleaded quietly, and Draco was not sure if it was directed toward him or the room itself.

There was an awkward, tension-filled silence, and Draco knew it had to be broken. Tonight he would probably put on one of the best performances of his life.

"I guess you're surprised." She looked toward him with wide eyes. Her cheeks were bright red. Draco cleared his throat a little to keep from choking, "What I wrote in the letter...it's true." She shook her head vehemently, as though denying his very presence. He took a step toward her and she plastered herself to the door. "I-ah," Draco paused, trying to collect himself. This was for Malfoy family name! "I really do have feelings for you." His cheeks felt hot for some reason.

He looked at her, hoping she'd have something to say by this point. She only blinked, looking shocked and utterly petrified.

"Look-Weasley-the least you could do is say something!" He was suddenly fuming. Couldn't she hurry up and accept his feelings so they could get on with it? "I-I like you and you're just standing there looking at me like I'm crazy!"

Her lips parted a bit, as though she was finally going to speak, but then they just remained parted and she continued to look at him as though he were the scariest thing she had ever seen.

Draco was getting frustrated. Did she have to stand there, frozen to the spot, eyeing him like that? He had gone to all the effort of setting this up and if something didn't happen soon his plan-and his pride-would be going down the drain.

She mumbled something incoherently.

"What?" he questioned, running his hand exasperatedly through his hair. "What did you say?"

"You really like me?" she said quietly, her voice soft and slightly unsteady.

"Yes!" he exclaimed, "I really like you. I really do. And I want us to get to know eachother better." Something gave a pang in his chest, but Draco ignored it. The fact that she was finally responding, finally comprehending the situation, sent tremors of nervousness and relief through him. It sounded like she was at least willing to consider his confession.

She turned her eyes on him, and Draco was almost taken aback. There was a hard intensity to her stare, and it seemed distinctly out of place considering her flushed cheeks and small stature. It was like she was sizing him up, those golden eyes boring right into him, searching for the truth of it all.

Briefly, Draco panicked.

But then she turned her eyes away again, directing them to her shoes, her cheeks still red and everything about her indicating that, if given the chance, she would make a run for it.

She mumbled, once again, and Draco strained to hear it. He huffed impatiently, barely reigning in his temper. "If you're going to say something, at least say it so I can hear you, Weasley," he managed, trying to sound reasonable rather than harsh.

"I said, alright, Malfoy."

"Huh?"

"I said, _alright_. I mean...I'll go out with you."

Draco's entire being exploded with something that might have been butterflies, or happiness, or something ridiculous like that. Of course, he was ecstatic only because this meant the Malfoy name would be preserved. Now that the Weasley had agreed to go out with him, he could take advantage of both her and the situation in order to gain some much needed experience and thus, by December, he would be only short of a professional when it came to the carnal pleasures. Everything was falling into place!

But how to start? What did you do to begin this kind of tryst? He eyed Weasley speculatively, looking up and down her body, trying to decide what he needed to discover first. It would probably be wisest to go one step at a time, so as not to scare her and so that he could grasp everything completely. But what place was the most innocent-where would she allow him to touch first?

His eyes fell to her lips. Of course!

"Malfoy, what are you thinking?" she questioned, and he saw she was watching him from below her eyelashes. She looked quite...cute, watching him like that.

"Can I kiss you?"

Draco didn't think it was possible, but apparently it was. Her face flushed, to the point that he was sure it must have been burning. "N-no!" she squeeked, turning once again to the door as though hoping it had decided to unlock itself during their brief conversation. Draco felt suddenly crestfallen, and there was a short moment of panic where he wondered if she had changed her mind. She turned back to him, evidently having recovered her composure. Her teeth worried her bottom lip, a momentary distraction. "Shouldn't we...get to know each other first?" she asked hesitantly.

Draco tried not to snarl at the suggestion. He didn't have the time for such things, and he almost told her so, only the moment he took a step toward her, she seemed to shy away. Seeing the obvious anxiety his proximity caused her made him realize that rushing into things probably would not be the best solution. He would have to gain her trust, at least a shred of it, before he would get his way with her. "Yes, you're absolutely right," he said, speaking to himself more than to her. He would have to do some more planning, but he'd make sure the payoff was worth it. "Meet me again tomorrow," he ordered. Her eyes widened. "Same time, same place. Okay?" Weasley nodded slowly.

Draco turned away, intending to retire onto one of the couches. It took him a moment to realize that Weasley had not left. "The door is open," he said, glancing back to see her standing in the exact same place. She nodded again, and left without a word.

* * *

By the time eight o'clock rolled around, Draco had transformed the Room of Requirement into every girl's dream. Pale red and cream colors replaced the darker palette from yesterday, and hovering candles gave the room a relaxed, romantic feel. Even Draco had to admit it was nice. A bouquet of pale white roses, delightfully aromatic, waited on an end table. Draco would give it to her when she entered. The music would also begin then. It had taken him a long time to manage to get the music right. He had spent all night, and the greater part of the day, just coming up with such a concept.

He paced the carpeted floor restlessly. At least, he hoped she was into this kind of thing. Weren't all girls? He tried to stifle a flutter of nervousness. He would at least get her to sit on the same sofa as him today. Ease her into it. He checked his watch. She was late. That was strange. She had been right on time yesterday. He continued to pace, the sound of his shoes thudding against the soft ground oddly soothing. He hardly realized it when fifteen minutes had passed, and then twenty.

He stopped moving and everything seemed suddenly quiet. It occurred to him that he had been stood up. A terrible sinking feeling suddenly took hold of him, and he looked around at the room, the room he had put so much effort into creating. He felt disgusted with himself, and he felt naive and worst of all he felt ridiculously vulnerable. Any moment now she could burst in here with Potter and company and they would all have a good laugh at him. The very thought of it made him feel as though he should bury himself in a hole.

And then there was the anger. Who was Weasley to put him through all of this? If she hadn't wanted to see him, she should have just said so yesterday! There was no need for him to have had to put so much trouble into creating something to make her more comfortable when she didn't even want to have anything to do with him in the first place! The fury flared up inside of him, making him grit his teeth and clench his fists. The room, sensing his change of mood, darkened, the roses shrivelling and the colors reverting back to blacks, greens and greys.

Ginny Weasley chose that moment to enter. He heard the hinge on the door groan as she shut it behind her, and he spun, both relieved and furious to see that she was here. She looked unbelievably timid and small, like no more than a little girl in her normal clothes. Her mouth gaped as she took in the room, and then Draco saw her eyes fall on him. They widened, and her hands scrambled for the door but, like yesterday he had already locked it. "S-sorry I'm late, something came up, I really didn't-"

Draco's mouth crashed onto hers, their teeth clacking and noses banging. She struggled, trying to push him away, making small noises of opposition, but he caught her wrists in both of his hands and nipped at her mouth warningly. Her back collided with the wall, hard, and he found himself pushing her captured arms against it and pressing himself into her firmly, lips still attached to hers. It took him a moment to realize that, now that he had his lips pressed to hers and her resistance quelled, he had no idea what to do. Her mouth and body were soft beneath his, and she had gone perfectly still. He pulled back a bit, just enough to keep their lips barely touching, and opened eyes he hadn't realized he had closed.

Ginny Weasley's eyes were wide open and filled with tears.

He wrenched himself away, horrified. She seemed to crumble inward as he watched, wrapping her arms around her body and touching a shaking hand to her bruised lips.

"Go." He didn't even realize that the word had spilled from his lips until her eyes rose to meet his. A tear skated down her cheek and he thought he saw fear staring back at him. The door was unlocked when her small hand found it, and she fled, once again without a word.

* * *

For the first time in his life, Draco felt like he had fallen into a great depression. He spent most of the next week listless, thoroughly and oddly disgusted with himself, floating from class to class while trying to tell himself it was only because he had doomed the Malfoy line and not out of some deep sense of guilt and remorse towards Ginny Weasley. He often thought about their kiss, even during Charms the Friday after it had occurred. Was that what a kiss was supposed to feel like? He hadn't even registered what he was doing. Anger, relief and the sight of her had melded into something inexplicable. He had lost control and _attacked_ her.

He dropped his head on his desk, hard. Several other students and Flitwick shot him puzzled looks, but he ignored them. His first kiss had...hurt. He had damn near broken his lip smashing into her so roughly. And while there was something to be said for having her so close to him, surrendering to him-there was also something to be said for those tears in her eyes. He lifted his head briefly and then brought it down onto the desk again. His first experience kissing had been a complete failure. Not to mention the fact that he had lost his test subject.

He tried to ignore the fact that the latter statement bothered him considerably more than the former.

When he finally gained enough determination to unstick his forehead from the table, class had already ended and his peers had evacuated the classroom. It was a Friday, after all. Even Flitwick probably had things to do on a Friday evening. Draco grumbled quite uncharacteristically as he gathered his things into his bag. He would go to dinner, pick at his food, and then retire to his bed for the rest of the weekend. Maybe he would steal Pansy's secret chocolate stash, as well, just for good measure.

"Malfoy?" a small voice quested from somewhere near the classroom door.

Draco's head snapped up and he almost fell over with the violence of his own movement. "Weasley?" he exclaimed incredulously.

There she was, standing in the door frame, her russet hair tumbling down her chest in two pigtails, her eyes wide and unexplainably, unbelievably, directed at him. He stared at her, completely flabbergasted, for several moments.

She blushed, turning away slightly. "I was waiting for you outside," she attempted to explain, "but it seems you're not coming out."

"I was!" he said hurriedly, "Just...ah...slowly." Again, he found himself staring at her. He hoped his utter confusion was not evident on his face. For some reason, his heart was beating terribly fast and possibly doing somersaults in his rib cage.

"Look, Malfoy," she seemed to be struggling to find the right words. As seemed to be her perpetual state in his presence, her face was red. He found himself wondering what it would feel like to touch her cheek while it was like that. "You can't just..." she bit her lip. "You can't just say you like me, say you want to go _out_ with me and then _do _something like that! I know I was late, I know you were angry, but..." She shook her head, as though not sure whether or not she was expressing herself clearly.

Draco definitely did not think she was being clear. She looked an intricate mix of frustration, anger, fear...He couldn't even have covered it with words. The fact that she was even bold enough to come up to him like this was overwhelming for him in and of itself. "What do you want me to _do_ then?" he found himself asking, not sure if he should be concerned about how lost his own voice sounded.

She squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her hands. "Take some responsibility."

That confused him even more. "What?"

"I...I haven't said we're over yet, Malfoy," she replied, her voice remarkably firm, "I-I agreed to go out with you and _we're still going out_." At that, she turned and marched off down the hall. Draco stood, completely gobsmacked for about five minutes.

Then he wondered why the sides of his mouth were twitching, as though in a smile. She had left, yet again on the verge of tears, but this time _she_ had chased _him_. He assured himself that the small tickle of happiness he felt was only due to the fact that Ginny Weasley had unwittingly placed herself back in his clutches, thus securing the future of the Malfoy and Desmerais families, and _not_ due to the fact that she probably had some sort of crush on him. Pansy would keep her chocolate, and he would keep his Weasley-at least until he ran out of use for her-and everything would be just fine.

**Author's Note: This is an odd little idea I came up with from reading some random fanfiction. It was meant to be a oneshot, but it's getting much too long for that and so I'm going to split it into either two or three chapters. It's really meant to portray Malfoy's conflicting feelings toward his and Ginny's relationship, as well as his 'sexual awakening' of sorts, which will hopefully come later. I feel like the story is not terribly well written at this point, so it's still subject to change. Hopefully you all like it (and will review to tell me you like it).**


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